History, and a Nice Menu

September 16, 2019September 30, 2019 / souzzchef / 7 Comments

I’ve long had an interest in the history of Shenandoah National Park, just a few hours west of us–and this past weekend we found a way to get up close and personal. On a last minute whim, we decided to take a quick overnight trip to Doyles River Cabin. The cabin was built by the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) in 1936–the same year that the Park was established–and is now managed as a rental property by the Potomac Appalachian Trail Club (PATC).

As you probably know, the CCC was created during the Depression as a way to provide employment, housing, and food to young men that were facing grim job prospects. CCC “enrollees” were paid roughly $30/month to built roads and bridges and cabins and more. They built a lot of structures still standing in the park (many of the original structures were removed when settlers were forced out by the state of Virginia to create the park; more on that here).

CCC boys leaving camp for home. Photo courtesy of Oregon State University, public domain

CCC Company 2530 Building a road. Photo courtesy of Edmund R. Golladay, public domain

Meal time at Camp Roosevelt, just up the road. Photo courtesy of Oregon State University, public domain

CCC Camp Kitchen Crew. Photo courtesy of Oregon State University, public domain

A CCC Barracks. Photo courtesy of Edmund R. Golladay, public domain

CCC laying stone for a road, 1933. Photo courtesy of National Archives, public domain

The CCC did a lot of work across the country. In addition to roads and bridges and cabins, they also planted trees, built flood and erosion control projects, erected fire towers, stocked trout—basically did whatever they could to improve the infrastructure of our country.

The CCC built this enclosure to the spring just below Doyles River Cabin

More than three million young men enrolled in the CCC, including some that later went on to great notoriety–like baseball Hall of Famer Stan Musial and Air Force test pilot Chuck Yeager (I’m imagining fireside chats about curveballs at the speed of sound).

Stan Musial in 1953, from Bowman Baseball cards, public domain

Chuck Yeager in front of the Bell X-1, 1940s. Photo courtesy of US Air Force, public domain

Doyles River Cabin is a primitive (no power or water) one-room structure, but it is sturdy and accommodating and in a great location. It also has a lovely covered porch and a beautiful view. PATC has done a nice job maintaining it, and we were thrilled that it was available on short notice.

The hike to the cabin is just a half mile from Skyline Drive. And with such an easy hike, we figured we could carry some fancy food (shocking for us, I know). We brought a small cooler bag full of our dinner, along with some frozen water bottles to keep things cold (figuring we could drink/dump the water before heading home). We did most of the food prep ahead of time, including cracking and freezing some scrambled eggs (for Sunday breakfast) in a Nalgene bottle.

We dropped our food and overnight gear at the cabin and then headed down trail another mile or so to Doyles River Falls (very pretty, despite the low-flow conditions). We shared the trail with a bunch of friendly folks, and saw quite a bit of bear scat. The black bear population is growing in the park, although we weren’t lucky enough to see one on this trip.

After our hike, we spent time lounging around the cabin and soaking in the view.

Souzz loving the hammock

Contemplating…

For dinner, we fried up some trout (just as the CCC might have done), made our favorite frybake French potato dish, Potato Gratin Savoyard (probably not what the CCC would have done), and enjoyed steamed mussels (definitely not what the CCC would have done).

Cheese and prosciutto from our favorite local wine shop, Arrowine

Raw Acacia Honeycomb honey, from the Savannah Bee Company

Souzz assembling the Potato Gratin Savoyard, a backcountry favorite of ours

More prep

Fried trout, anyone?

Cooking on the nice stonework

Cooking trout

Potato Gratin Savoyard, ready to be baked

Done!

Potat Gratin Savoyard, done!

As we cooked dinner, we admired the stonework and hand hewn logs that make up the cabin, as well as the beautiful view of the night sky. It’s pretty amazing to think that Doyles River Cabin has been providing cozy nights under the moonlight for 80+ years. The cabin looks fantastic for its age–which apparently is only a compliment if you are talking about a cabin (ask me how I know).

Souzz and our little cooler

Nice night sky

colors changed by the minute

Something magical about a fire

Breakfast sausage (and eggs in the bottle to the left)

Packing up

There’s something rewarding about finding an adventure close to home—and even more so when it includes a bit of history and a nice menu. And we have the mussels to prove it.

Same Dynamic

July 7, 2019November 18, 2019 / souzzchef / Leave a comment

I’ve wanted to visit the Chesapeake Bay’s Tangier Island ever since I read a travel article about it back in the 1990s. The island was first charted in 1608, and its history is completely outsized for a place that is less than 1/2 of a square mile in land mass. The human history stretches from Native Americans through the Revolutionary War and on through to the watermen of the 1800s and 1900s—and many of those same families continue to ply the bay for crabs and oysters to this day.

First view of Tangier

Approaching the main harbor

Lots of crab pots

There has been an explosion of interest in Tangier in the past few years, primarily because it is eroding into the bay at an alarming pace. About two thirds of the island has disappeared since the 1850s, and the rate of loss is now accelerating. Whether the cause is climate change or a natural cycle is a subject of some debate among the islanders–but one thing that most residents can agree about is their desire to preserve the island.

Crab pots in the main harbor

Ookire’s shanty

Our weekend overnight visit wasn’t motivated at all by erosion; quite to the contrary, we were drawn by the sameness of the place. Tangier is disconnected and isolated from the mainland by ten miles of open water, so “conventional” change has been slow to come. And that is definitely a strong part of its draw.

We headed to Tangier on the ferry out of Crisfield, Maryland, on a scorching hot Saturday with our good friends Lou and Kay. We shared our boat with a big gathering of day-trippers from nearby Dorchester County (maybe 100+ people in their group, very friendly, from two local churches).

The Steven Thomas, out of Crisfield

Leaving the mainland behind

Souzz contemplating

A busy ride

Sharing a ride with a lot of new friends

Everything here is ours, except the trash can

Lou as we approach Tangier

Once at the dock in Tangier, we watched as folks streamed into the few restaurants and the nearby ice cream shop, overwhelming the town and swelling its population by 20% (from 400 to 500+) for a few very busy hours.

Main street during a peak in visitors

While our fellow travelers enjoyed lunch and bought a souvenir or two, we headed to the south end of the island to spend some time on the beach. And when we got back to town, most had already left for Crisfield on the 4pm boat.

The lovely beach at the south end

Looking to the south

Black skimmers

Water temp was perfect

Quite fashionable

The islanders are friendly and patient, and they clearly benefit from tourism. But I caught myself thinking that it could get old to be looked on as a curiosity, especially when big groups of tourists overrun the place. So we tried to be mindful of that as we made our way through town. After all, we were tourists, too.

We enjoyed the softshell crabs at Lorraines

Softshell crabs, Tangier style

Anyway, once the big group was gone, it felt like we got a truer glimpse of Tangier. The restaurants weren’t packed, the streets were quiet, and the locals were still friendly and patient—but with a bit more time to share, and at a pace that one resident described as “island time.”

Just wide enough for a golf cart

Looking down the main street

City center, absent the tour boat crowds

A nice quick way to get around

Lou and Kay enjoy the sunset

Watermen’s communities are amazingly quiet at night

As for the town itself, there are a few places to eat, a handful of shops, bike and golf cart rentals, and a few B&Bs–including the Bay View Inn and its wonderful hosts, Maureen, Jim and David. The Bay View Inn’s owners treated us like family from the start, even though tourists on Tangier are often called “come-heres” in local parlance. Lou and I took their cue about family and began teasing each other like teenage brothers, which culminated in a breakfast haiku contest that probably isn’t fit for a family blog. But what’s a weekend without a little combat haiku?

Bay View Inn

Some of the rooms, along with the main deck

Our accommodations, with a lovely porch

Enjoying a lovely breakfast, just before combat haiku broke out

Looking out towards town from the Bay View Inn

Rooms are nice and clean

Kay, Maureen, son David, and Souzz

A good sense of Lou’s (and my) maturity level

As one would expect, things are simple on the island, and there aren’t a lot of amenities. There’s almost no cell reception, and you need to be willing to get a little wet and a little hot and maybe fight a few bugs to really explore the place. Tangier is a beautiful island in the middle of a bay–but it’s not Nantucket, and by all indications it doesn’t aspire to be.

A walking (or cart-riding) map of the town

A nice map of the water trails

Souzz ready to kayak

Taking a break from kayaking

You can see the water tower from most anywhere

Headed back to town

Black skimmers

A look back at the town from the south

In addition to the excellent sea kayaking (kayaks are available at no charge from the Bay View Inn), a highlight of our visit was a tour of a crab shanty in the main harbor. Ookire Eskridge, a life-long waterman and the town’s mayor, was our tour guide. He was very friendly and very patient (and funny) as he explained what has been his livelihood for decades. The amount of time and effort that it takes to harvest a soft-shell crab is astounding, and I’ll never eat another one again without thinking of Ookire and his shanty.

Ookire’s shanty

Ookire at the helm of his Chesapeake Bay deadrise (crab boat)

Ookire shows Kay a molting softshell

A “peeler” in the middle of molting. The resulting crab is far larger than its shell, amazing

Souzz and I enjoy our ride out to the shanty

Kay and Lou

Inside the shanty, Ookire’s home away from home

Crabs are moved from pen to pen depending on their stage of molting

Ookire shows us a male hardshell

Live softshells, or “peelers,” ready to head to market in New York City

Looking down the holding pens

A large male “adopts” a female peeler and protects her while she molts

It’s impossible to understand any place, especially one as complex as Tangier, in a simple overnight trip–but we really enjoyed the opportunity to try. We found the islanders to be kind, independent, resourceful, and proud, and there is a very strong sense of community. A few quick examples: there is a list on the church bulletin board of residents that are “shut-ins” (to encourage regular visits), there was amazing teamwork moving supplies at the dock, and looking for Ookire to arrange our tour involved (unsolicited) help from at least five people.

Tangier School, home to about 60 students K through 12

A mix of locals and tourists like us

Swain Memorial Methodist Church, the focal point of the island (1899, on a site dating to 1842)

Beautiful stained glass

Tangier has a long history of military service

Swain Methodist Cemetery. Many graves here date to the mid-1800s

Another view of the cemetery

This is also a community that cares a lot about their island. Many (most? all?) are eager for a sea wall that can help to keep the bay at bay (one resident jokingly asked me to bring two buckets of dirt the next time that I visited). A sea wall is a complicated question these days, but there’s no doubt that Tangier is a treasure.

Many bridges connect the three ridges that make up Tangier

The water tower, Tangier’s most visible landmark

Nice interpretive signs dot the main street

The history museum is well worth the stop

Quite a rich history here

Seems pretty recent to ge betting power

Artifacts from an era gone by (or has it?)

Every trap is hand made

A look at the museum

Sunday afternoon–and our ride home–came too quickly, despite the heat and a little bit of sunburn. These trivial things were just a hint of the challenges and the hard work that it takes to make a living on Tangier–and that doesn’t even take into account the many moods of the open water on the bay.

The water tower, Tangier’s most visible landmark

Many bridges connect the three ridges that make up Tangier

Tangier School, home to about 60 students K through 12

When people can somehow stay the same in an ever-changing world, it sets them apart, and not always in a good way (I think of my cousin’s old-style fanny pack, or Aunt Angela’s tube top). But in Tangier’s case, it’s a good thing, and Tangier is an extremely unique place.

My brother is a great writer and he tells me that there are not “degrees of uniqueness,” that something is either unique or it isn’t. But he’s never been to Tangier.

Cooking Old School In The New Year

January 18, 2019October 31, 2019 / souzzchef / 5 Comments

Souzz and I often spend New Year’s Eve in the backcountry or in a cabin, and we traditionally make risotto (along with some other fancy dish). The standard bearer of New Year’s absurdity was probably the year that we made risotto with lobster in a five burner kitchen while camping in the snow. We didn’t quite reach that level of absurdity this year, but we at least thought about it.

Lobsters in the snow

Souzz and our friend Sara

Anyway, with cold rain in the 2019 forecast, we decided to head to the Potomac Appalachian Trail Club’s Dawson Cabin in Pennsylvania, about two hours drive from our home in Virginia. Dawson is one of the lesser visited cabins in the PATC system, maybe because the hike to the cabin is straight uphill. But the hike is short, and Dawson is a hidden gem that is worth the visit. The cabin is well appointed and very well maintained, and it has southern exposure and a beautiful view.

Approaching the cabin

Lots of windows across the front, so nice light

Nice site!

Roomy and bright

Very well maintained and supplied

Lots of supplies

All of the bedding needs to be caged when the cabin isn’t being used

It was too rainy for us to use this, but in nicer weather it’d be great

Looking back from the bunks

A concrete foundation and nice outdoor space

puzzles for a rainy day

For our planned risotto and filet mignon feast, we hauled in a lot of cookware, as well as a five pound canister of propane and a two-burner camp stove. Utility wagons are a great tool for getting bulky gear into walk-in PATC cabins—but dragging them uphill through the mud and over tree roots in the rain might be an acquired taste.

The start of the trail

Arriving at the cabin as the rain stopped!

When we reached the cabin, we discovered that there was a problem with the regulator on the camp stove, so the stove and propane were basically flammable barbells. The issue was clearly beyond what I could field-repair, and fiddling with high-pressure gas connections is exciting in any circumstance–but especially so in a remote wood-framed structure. I’m also kind of fond of my eyebrows.

As a consolation, at least we had some good appetizers.

Appetizers were easy, though! This is olives, feta, lemon peel, olive oil, garlic

Prosciutto…oh, and beer!

With appetizers gone and still five hours to New Year’s, we had a new twist: how to make risotto without a modern camp stove. But there was a perfectly serviceable wood stove sitting right at our feet, so how hard could this be?

Tending a wood stove is always important in a PATC cabin in winter, although the goal is usually just heating the place. But now we had to figure out a way to keep the heat somewhat constant.

Chopping onions, nothing special

Sauteeing onions in olive oil

Mixing in rosemary

Coating the arborio rice

Wood stoves used to be the only stoves we had, right?

Adding broth

Looking very holiday

Starting to shape up

Ok, so I get that wood stoves have been around for generations, and my friends in bush Alaska are probably rolling their eyes by now (well, at least Ruby is…but in my defense, I don’t remember seeing a lot of risotto on “Life Below Zero“).

It took a little fiddling to maintain the level of heat on the cooktop, and there were times when we had to cool things off by lifting the pan onto a hastily made wire trivet (using a piece from a broken dartboard that we found in the cabin).

And more broth…

But we figured it out, and the risotto was quite good. And the keys to good risotto are the same whether on a modern range or on a wood stove: using homemade stock (way less salty), heating the stock quite a bit before adding, and cooking the risotto at high heat (ideally enough heat to finish the job in less than 20 minutes). With too little heat, things take a long time and the risotto gets sticky.

We paired the risotto with filet mignon, which we grilled over wood fire coals. And note Souzz’s thumb print in the steak. I guess that’s how real chefs figure out if it’s done.

Lastly, our stove challenge gave us the chance to puzzle over why we go to primitive cabins and then haul in hundreds of pounds of fancy gear. That seems about as logical as getting the turbo option when you buy a Ford Fiesta. So maybe simplifying things should be our New Year’s Resolution? Well, that and preserving my eyebrows.

Souzz’s Christmas gift was an inflatable chair (she got me an Apple watch, whoops).

2019 resolution: never grow up!

Swiss Time

August 6, 2017August 6, 2017 / souzzchef / 3 Comments

I’ve wanted to hike hut-to-hut in Switzerland for years, but planning such a trip always seemed like a daunting task. For starters, there are more than 150 huts in the Swiss Alpine Club system, which seemed totally overwhelming. And the language barrier for someone that doesn’t speak Swiss German is big, as almost all of the websites and information are in Swiss German (go figure).

Looking down at the Terrehutte and the clouds

Enter our good friends Reto and Annika, who live near Zurich and know a thing or two about these huts. They helped us plan a three day trip of about 30 kilometers on the Greina Plateau in the south central part of Switzerland–and by “helped us plan,” I mean that they planned it. Best of all, Reto came along (perhaps he thought we could use a chaperone?).

Reto and Souzz at Rheinfall, near Zurich

Annika and her best friend (oh, wait, I think that’s Reto)

Getting from Zurich to the trailhead near Vrin was ambitious enough, requiring four hours, three train rides, three cups of coffee, two bus rides, and a kilometer of walking up a village road.

Along the way

The marker is Vrin

Reto scouts future trips

On the train

In the village of Vrin

The start to our hike

From the trailhead, it was about 9 kilometers and 800 vertical meters to get to the Terrihutte, which is a beautiful stone structure on a point at the head of a valley.

Terrehutte

One of many stream crossings

Souzz and Reto

Another stream crossing

A beautiful spot!

the last leg of the hike

I look like I am helping Souzz through a tough section, but Reto actually did the hard part.

The Terrihutte was built in 1925, although it has been renovated and expanded multiple times since. It has space for 110 in shared bunk rooms, as well as a full kitchen and a bar with cold beer and wine (as with most huts, restocking is done by helicopter). It also has electric power generated from the creek below, quite the luxury.

Food at the hut was simple but hearty. Potatoes, meats, soup, breads, butter, and salads are typical, all served family style in a dining room that offers ridiculous views.

ok, so it’s cloudy…but a pretty cool view

Mashed potatoes and meat

Vegetarian dinner

Mixed salad

dessert

breakfast

A busy room

Huts kind of have some views

The huts are also highly social places, even if you don’t speak the language. We were generally sitting across the table from someone who hiked the same hard kilometers that we did, which means we had a few things in common–including sore feet and tired legs. And, despite our ugly American language skills, many of our fellow hikers were gracious enough to reach out in English (which was a good thing, as hearing Reto and his family laugh as I tried to say the word for “three” in Swiss German wasn’t very encouraging).

Terrehutte

We filled our water bottles here

Drying room

A charging station in the backcountry, pure magic!

Souzz in our dorm-style room

The next day we headed up and over our high point at Greina Pass (2703 meters) to the Medelserhutte. It was a 15 kilometer hike, including some scrambling and a descent of a long snowfield. There were also some really fun glissades (the easy part) before a short ascent to the hut.

Headed up to the pass

Capricorn against the snow

With Reto at Greina Pass

Selfie-time!

Headed down the snowfield

Glissading is fun, no matter how old you are!

With Souzz, looking down the pass

The Medelserhutte is in a saddle with a commanding view to the west. It is a smaller hut than the Terrehutte, with 55 bunks, but still plenty roomy. Despite an early-ish start to our hike, we didn’t get there until nearly 6pm–but that was still enough time to catch sun on the back patio and watch Capricorns (a type of bighorn sheep) run the hillside.

Looking down valley

Medel Hut

Reto

An inviting front door

A room with a view!

Rooms were pretty nice

I guess I’m not much of a conversationalist

Souzz and Reto

Reto spies some Capricorns

Medel Hut

Our entire route

Soaking in the sun after a big day

Capricorns roaming the hillside

Looking back, Reto and Annika made it easy for us to do something that would have been very hard for us to do on our own (impossible?!), and for that we are very grateful. Visiting Switzerland with their help was priceless, spending time with them and their children before and after our hike was a treasure, and we are still glowing about our trip.

As for our time in the huts, I caught myself wondering how the Swiss built these places. But mostly I wondered why my legs were so sore. And then I wondered what another beer would taste like.

Time Travel

April 2, 2017April 10, 2018 / souzzchef / 7 Comments

My buddy Rick and I just got back to Virginia after spending a week touring the Yukon by dog team. Friends of ours, Wayne and Scarlett Hall, run a dogsledding business out of Eagle, Alaska, called Bush Alaska Expeditions, and they hooked us up with a great tour. Even getting to Eagle is a bit of an adventure, requiring a ride on the mail plane out of Fairbanks. Once in Eagle, we met up with another friend and guide, expert musher Nate Becker, before heading for the hills.

The mail plane out of Fairbanks

On short final in Eagle

Eagle’s library

Another shot of downtown Eagle

Wayne and Scarlett’s homestead

downtown Eagle

Rick, Nate, me

Sleds at the ready

The country around Eagle has a long and interesting history, including a number of different Athabaskan tribes, fur trading dating back to the 1700s, and the 1896 Klondike Gold Rush that started near Dawson City (150 miles upriver). During the gold rush, people came north with big dreams, and some made (and lost) fortunes. Place names like Last Chance Creek, Bonanza Creek, and Hard Luck Creek tell a part of the story.

The Chilkoot Pass trail at the height of the gold rush

A dog team in Dawson in 1899

Prospectors hard at work

Skookum Jim Mason, largely credited with the discovery that started the gold rush (photo by Joseph Duclos)

Routes to the Klondike (photo courtesy of NPS)

Our trip felt like a moving tribute to the hardy souls that lived and thrived up there a hundred or more years ago, almost like time travel. Back in the day, the frozen Yukon River was traveled by legends like Percy DeWolfe, who carried the mail back and forth between Dawson and Eagle from 1910 to 1949….when it costs 3 cents to send a first class letter. Another notable resident was Harry Karstens, nicknamed the Seventymile Kid, who came from Chicago to prospect for gold before becoming a “packer” hauling mining supplies for other prospectors. Karstens went on to lead the first ascent of Mount McKinley (now Denali) in 1912 and later became the superintendent of Mount McKinley National Park.

Percy DeWolfe, the “Iron Man of the North,” in 1938. Photo courtesy of Yukon Archives. Claude and Mary Tidd Fonds

Another shot of Percy DeWolfe, who delivered the mail up here by dog team

The mail run from Dawson to Eagle in 1900

Fish wheels are used to harvest fish for dog food

A dog team leaves the village of Circle in the early 1900s

Eagle in 1900

Harry Karstens in 1927

Chris “Phonograph” Nelson, a trapper who built one of the cabins where we stayed

During the course of our week, the rich history of the Yukon revealed some of itself to us through the cabins along the river. A few of the cabins were historic, a few were relatively new, and a few were somewhere in between–but all were remarkable in their own way. The one constant is that they were generally spaced about a day’s mushing apart–which was good forethought by the folks that built these places. Cabins along the Tatonduk River, the Nation River, and the Seventymile River were a welcome sight after a long day on the trail, just as they would have been in the early 1900s.

Chris “Phonograph” Nelson’s cabin, built in 1934. He was called “phonograph” for his habit of repeating himself when he told stories

Drying out inside the Tatonduk River Cabin

aaaah, heat!

The bear cache and cabin at Nation Bluff

some light reading

Hard Luck Cabin

Journalling, old-style

A half-barrel stove in one of our cabins

Salmon drying on a fish rack

Nation Bluff Cabin

Hard Luck Cabin

Nation Bluff Cabin

Graffiti, northern style

Tatonduk Cabin

Nate hanging by the stove

Beaver Pond Cabin

Northern lights

I’m sometimes asked why I am so captivated by Alaska, and I answer that it’s because it’s the way the world used to be. During the course of the week, it was easy to wonder what it must have been like back in the day–and each time that I stopped to warm my fingers, I was reminded that I probably wouldn’t have had what it took. I have no idea how people thrived in this land before fancy down jackets, goretex gloves, and bunny boots. That said, it was also inspiring to spend time with some of the people that are thriving there now, like Wayne, Scarlett, Nate, and Nate’s wife Ruby.

Wayne, Scarlett, Rick

Nate and Ruby

Our wonderful hosts obviously made this trip possible–but it’s also important to call out the true stars of the the week: those incredible canine athletes. One thing that I’m pretty sure hasn’t changed in the last 100 years is that Alaskan huskies are phenomenally fit, loyal, and eager to run. They are also incredibly reliable, as a dog team never breaks down on the trail (unlike a snowmachine…or snowmobile, in case you don’t speak Alaskan). Each morning, those huskies were ready to take us anywhere that we had the skills to go, and they also seemed completely impervious to the cold. As I adjusted layers a thousand times on the back of the sled, I remembered that my dog team was wearing exactly the same thing that it had on last summer.

Banshee and Peggy

After rolling in snow to cool off at 25 below

Headed down river

The team during a rest

In action headed up the Tatonduk

Are you ready to run?!

After an amazing week, Rick and I came back from the Yukon with a new appreciation for the way the world used to be, and the way that it still is…at least up there.

Leaving The Rock

October 12, 2016October 22, 2016 / souzzchef / 4 Comments

We closed out our trip to Newfoundland with a hike in Little Cove, just south of the village of Twillingate. Our hike took us to Jones Cove and then up and over the ridge to Lower Little Harbour.

The Twillingate hiking website listed this particular hike as easy, but we found it to be a bit more—four or so miles with a lot of up and down. Perhaps this was due to weather in the low 50s (Fahrenheit) and high winds (25-30 mph gusts), or maybe we are just flatlander tourists. In any case, the hiking was interesting, with sections of heavy forest, sections of bare rock, a summit ridge, and even a short stretch of rocky beach.

Along the way, we passed a natural arch and the remains of a settlement from the 1930s, including what was left of a restaurant called Kelley’s Sunset Chat. Our hike was a nice mix of nature, history, and exercise–including some scrambling and some up-hill climbs.

Souzz up on the ridge above Jones Cove

A wooded section of trail

Great views to the east

Colors are changing

Beautiful natural arch

A root cellar from the 1930s

Kelley’s Sunshine Chat restaurant, from the 1930s

Back in Twillingate at Oceanview Retreat, we closed out our stay with another interesting Newfoundland dish, seafood chowder. It’s pretty clear why I haven’t lost weight on this trip.

Fresh north Atlantic salmon

local carrots, celery, onion

mixing in savory and pepper

done!

Some other local dishes this week included Newfoundland fish cakes, pickled herring, and fried dulse. Menu staples here are highly seasonal, revolve around the sea as well as roots and berries, and have a simple charm about them.

Dulse, a local seaweed

Lots of ways to prepare dulse

Fried dulse

Fish cakes

Hmmm….

Somehow this looked better in the jar

We are back in Virginia now, but we have some great memories of “The Rock,” as Newfoundland is often called. We didn’t know much about any of these places before planning this trip, and now we’ll never forget them. The culture is interesting, the people are amazingly friendly…and there is so much more to see.

On our way to the airport in Gander, Souzz uttered the telltale phrase that marks the end of a great vacation: “I wish we had one more day.”

Twilling-great

October 8, 2016October 16, 2016 / souzzchef / 3 Comments

We’ve been having fun in and around Twillingate, Newfoundland, for the past few days. That includes a visit to Auk Island Winery, some hiking, and a sampling of some of the local seafood. We’re up here in shoulder season, so a lot of businesses aren’t open…but we pretty much have the place to ourselves (along with 2,500 delightfully friendly residents).

Of course, the hiking trails around Twillingate don’t ever really close down (depending on your tolerance for cold weather, I guess), and we had an awesome day for a hike. After a visit to Crow Head and Long Point Lighthouse, we enjoyed hikes to French Beach and French Head. The views were stunning, the sky was crystal blue, and we were the only folks around.

Long Point Lighthouse

The red roof of the lighthouse keeper’s residence

Court enjoying the afternoon light

Not a lot of right angles around here

Skies seem brighter in the far north

Near French Head

Near French Beach

Court hiking up from French Head

Looking across to Twillingate

One of many freshwater ponds on Twillingate Island

French Head

The rental car place in Gander comped us on 4WD…not a bad thing!

Souzz in one of the more wooded sections of French Head

As nice as the hiking was, the highlight of the day was our visit to Auk Island Winery, where we chatted with our friendly host, Nicole, for nearly an hour. She shared a lot of insight into their berry wines, and also shared her love for Twillingate and the surrounding country. We covered a lot of ground, including stories of Nicole’s travels to the Dominican Republic and Cuba, and a brief conversation about her experience during 9-11.